


Grand Gestures

by millijayne13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confessions, Cute, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fred Weasley Lives, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Love, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millijayne13/pseuds/millijayne13
Summary: Request: A request for my love, George Weasley! Post-war (Fred is alive obvs) and all is good and well, and they’ve been ignoring their feelings for one another for so long and now, because George almost lost Fred and he’s tired of ignoring how he feels so he shows up where she works, and just says he’s in love with her and is fed up with waiting for them to pull their heads out of their asses! Extra fluff please?? You’re the best Millie 💛💛💛
Relationships: George Weasley/Original Character(s), George Weasley/Original Female Character(s), George Weasley/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	Grand Gestures

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr: @iliveiloveiwrite
> 
> Warnings: mentions of war and some swearing BUT THE FLUFF IS SO CUTE.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment and a kudos if you enjoyed!

The Daily Prophet had a reputation within the wizarding world; it was known globally for its hard-hitting expos on the highest wizards in power across the globe. It had been particularly damning towards Albus Dumbledore upon his fall from grace with the rise of the Dark Lord yet backtracked on their view of the Headmaster upon his death.

You had started work at the publication six months after completing your eighth year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Second Wizarding War had disturbed your final year of education. But the defeat of the Dark Lord allowed you to go back to Hogwarts to receive your NEWTs.

The war had taken so much from you; you had lost friends and family members through the Battle of Hogwarts. Memories of the events were burned into your brain; they couldn’t be avoided in the late hours of the night when your tears would fall silently down your face.

However, whilst the war had taken so much from you, it had brought you closer to your oldest friend George Weasley.

Growing up in the next village from Ottery St. Catchpole, the Weasley family were the closest family to yours other than the Diggory’s. You spent most weekends at The Burrow being spoiled rotten by Molly Weasley. Your parents worked so often; they felt awful for leaving you so much but as you grew older, you reassured them that you really didn’t mind spending time with the Weasley family.

The more time you spent at The Burrow; the more attached you grew to the twins. Being the same age as them, you fell into an easy friendship with them – playing pranks on their elder brothers, practicing Quidditch in the meadow behind their home. The friendship with the twins was something you treasured, and it followed you to Hogwarts where you were sorted into the same house.

Fred and George shouted the loudest when the Sorting Hat cried out Gryffindor after being placed on your head. Your grin matched theirs when you sat down across from them at the table. Charlie patting your shoulder in celebration as you sat next to him.

Your time at Hogwarts was defined by three things; your academic skills, the rising tension about the rebirth of the Dark Lord, and your love for George Weasley.

You consistently came at the top of your class in every subject; spending hours in the library, working on essays and revising topics you could recite like the back of your hand. George lost count how many times he had dragged you out of the library after curfew; after you had promised him just one more hour of studying.

Falling in love with George Weasley was the next natural step in your relationship. Your heart started to race every time he smiled in your direction; feeling your face heat slightly at any attention he gave you. Your skin felt overheated each time he would grab your hand out of the blue; knocking the breath out of you when he did.

Every day you told yourself you’d tell him; you’d confess what you had felt for so long.

Then the war came.

\----------

Upon seeing him alive, standing in the Great Hall, covered in dust but his eyes still the brown you had come to love, you had thrown yourself into his arms.

He met you halfway; his arms wrapping tightly around you as he kept you pressed against.

“I thought…” You trail off, tears falling down your face.

George hushes you, “Not in a million years, love.”

You sniffle, your hands patting him down, checking for injuries. “Love, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

You nod rapidly, “I’m okay, not hurt, I just have some cuts and bruises.”

Something in George’s chest relaxes at that; relief flows through his body when your confirm that you’re okay. Through the entire battle, his mind was occupied with you – panicking over where you were and what was happening. Dread pooled in his stomach at the thought of you hurt.

He didn’t want the day to end without him having the chance to tell you how he feels about you.

But when he saw you running through the Great Hall to get to him; he wanted to tell you – wanted to tell you everything, but his mouth couldn’t find the words. So he settles for burying his face in your hair, inhaling the scent he had come to associate with love.

\--------

It had been a year since the war ended, since Voldemort’s defeat and yet you hadn’t taken the chance that had been offered so many times.

When you joined him on his walks; the sun shining, his eyes brighter than the week before. There was a chance then to tell him.

When you found him in the kitchen in the Burrow at midnight, making enough hot chocolate for two because he knew you’d join him. In the silence, there was a chance then.

The war had brought you closer together; you started staying at the Burrow more. Molly only too happy to let you stay if it meant that George was starting to sleep through the night without waking from the nightmares of Fred’s near death experience. It had truly scarred George; the moment when he found him unconscious had been the darkest minutes of his life – he felt he had no direction; as if the very reason for his being on earth had been taken away. It had taken time for George to feel like he could let Fred out of his sight.

Chance after chance had presented itself to you, but you wanted to be in a place where you worried about your own mental health as well as his.

The war had been devastating, and whilst it had brought the two of you closer together, it had destroyed part of you that needed time to heal.

You were happy to be his shoulder to cry on when his thoughts got to be too much. For now, you were content with the walks and the midnight hot chocolates.

\----------

George had had enough. He couldn’t keep his feelings from you any longer; he was close to combusting from what he felt for you.

Groaning, he lets his head fall onto the kitchen table. Fred laughs at the sight, “Still pining are we, Georgie?”

“I just don’t know how to say it, Freddie.”

“How about something grand?”

“What do you mean?”

“Put on a show, George! We’re the Weasley twins, we’ve never done anything that wasn’t a spectacle.”

George lifts his head from the table, “You’re right but what should I do?”

A smirk breaks out across his twin’s face. Fred has had this planned since he realised the romantic feelings between the two of you and the absolute obliviousness of the both of you.

\--------

George fixes his patterned tie in a shop window across the road from the offices. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead but it soon flops back over. He let it grow out after the war and hadn’t had the time to get it cut since. He takes a deep breath, smiling at himself in the window. He can do this, he tells himself.

The doors to the Daily Prophet are never closed; instead, running on revolving doors that journalists and photographers constantly run in and out of. George wonders mindlessly whether any of them get dizzy from running in and out all day, chasing leads and capturing photos.

He shrugs to himself, stepping into the road. His heart is in his mouth with every step he takes towards the doors. His hands shake slightly as he enters the seemingly plain office building, but his breath is always taken away by the ornateness of it once entered. It’s disguised as a simple red brick building for muggles, to keep them off the scent of witches and wizards, but entering the foyer to the building, George wonders if he’ll ever enter a place as grandly decorated.

As he stands in the lift, giving the number of your floor to the lift operator, his voice breaks. He blushes at the sound of it before repeating himself, clearing his throat first.

The lift goes too fast for his liking; the butterflies in his stomach turning into a full blown riot when the doors open to the familiar floor. He had brought you lunch here a thousand times, if not more. Eating at your desk as you worked on another story and George occupied himself by watching you work.

Thinking back on it, George wonders if you’ve realised that he’s in love with you and you haven’t said anything as to not let him down.

He shakes his head clear of that thought, getting off the elevator. He won’t talk himself out of this; not now, not when he has come this close and listened to Fred’s every word.

Your desk is situated to the back of the room; next to the large window that covers the expanse of the wall. It provides a beautiful view of muggle London, but George would argue that the most beautiful view in all of London is you. You’ve pushed your hair back from your face as you shuffle papers on your desk; you huff as a piece of hair falls into your eyes. You’ve rolled the sleeves of your blouse up, exposing the tattoo on your right forearm that you got in memoriam for the family you had lost in the war. It was one of George’s favourite things about you; you were happy to move on, to start living your life again, but you would not forget.

A large smile breaks over your face at the sight of George in your office. He visited so often but you were never bothered by the man you had fallen in love with as a teenager.

“George,” You call, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He waves his hand in a nonchalant manner, “Oh… nothing, I was just in the neighbourhood.”

You glare playfully at the red-headed man, “I don’t believe you for one second, Weasley.”

George gasps, placing a hand on his heart, “You hurt me, (Y/N).”

“Oh hush,” You grin, “How can I help you today, George?”

George takes a deep breath, preparing himself, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“I’m all ears. Anything for you, Georgie.”

He smiles at you softly; overcome with what he feels for you. He’s never loved anyone like this; he’s had crushes in the past but that’s all they were – simple, childish crushes. But this; this is it for him. You’re it for him; if he could propose marriage to you here and now, he would because he knows with every single fibre of his being that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

George swings himself up onto the desk in front of yours; he pauses for a second to see if the desk will take his weight. He smiles satisfied when the desk doesn’t collapse under him – that would definitely ruin his plans for what he has to say.

“What are you doing?” You shout, your hands reaching to pull him down.

George bends at the knee, lowering himself to be closer to your level, “I’m making a grand gesture, love.”

You frown up at him, taking a step closer in case he falls, “You’re what?”

“I’m making a grand gesture, are you ready?”

You look at him with a puzzled expression on your face, but curiosity burns through you. “As I’ll ever be. Show me your grand gesture, George.”

George stands to his full height, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes a deep breath.

Now or never.

“I love you!” George shouts, arms spread as wide as his smiles as he balances precariously on your neighbour’s desk.

You hold a piece of paper to your face to hide the large grin growing across your face at the sight of the man you had loved since you were a teenager declare his feelings for you in such a grand gesture.

Your shoulders shake from the effort of keeping your laughter repressed. This had Fred written all over it, but you knew that George would happily go along with it. It had the Weasley twins written all over it even if it wasn’t one of them declaring their love for you.

“What do you say, love? Do you love me back?” He asks, eyebrows raised, waiting for your answer.

You stay silent for a minute; making him wait. Eileen at the desk to the left of yours throws a ball of paper at your head, “Honey, if you don’t tell him you love him, I will.”

You start to laugh, “Yes, Georgie. I love you too.”

Relief washes over him; making his legs feel like jelly as he jumps down from the desk. The smile doesn’t leave his face once – not as he pulls you in, not as he tilts your face, and not as he finally, after so so long, presses his lips to yours.

“I’ve waited so long to tell you and so long to kiss you,” George whispers when he pulls away.

“I think I’ve waited just as long as you have,” You quip.

“Grand gestures, aye?”

You laugh, kissing him again. It’s a while before you reply, but when you do you’re whispering, “Thank Merlin for grand gestures.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment and a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> Tumblr: @iliveiloveiwrite


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